


Talk to Me

by BatsaboutBats (theboxedfox)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-05-20 08:28:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboxedfox/pseuds/BatsaboutBats
Summary: They don't need words, they have this.





	1. Talk to me

He was fifteen and aching like a full body bruise, fingers clinging to broad shoulders dappled in scars. Bobbing slowly but surely up and down along a driving force that was growing hotter and harder with each pass on their bodies. In the quiet night all that could be heard was the rustle of sheets beneath his bent knees and the slick press of their skin meeting. They never talked when they did this. At least not with their mouths.

They were too busy kissing for words. Touch was all they needed in this. Jason's lips broke away for a soft inhalation of air, thighs trembling and spine going weak as Bruce found him, _right there_ , like he always did. He moaned as Bruce's arm slid around his waist to steady him, while the other pressed a hand to his hip and helped him move like he weighed nothing more than a cotton puff.

It always got to him, how easily Bruce could just toss him around like a ragdoll. On the training mats, during a mission, or the bed. Especially in bed. He loved it when Bruce did this, worked him the way he wanted him. Even if it was slow and all his teenage hormonal instincts screamed for faster. The first time they'd fucked it had been fast.

It was because Jason had actually popped off in his gym shorts while Bruce was training him on some new grappling techniques. The whole time they'd been wrestling Jason hadn't noticed his erection until Bruce's thigh slid just so and one shove was all it had taken. When the stars in Jason's vision had dissipated, Bruce's gaze down at him had been one of shock, awe and dazed amazement.

The hunger that had sparked in those clear, ice blue eyes, when Jason licked his parched lips had made Jason bold. He'd shot up the scant inches between their faces and pressed his lips to Bruce's in a chaste quick kiss. He dropped down again, breathless, feeling the clinging fabric of his shorts go from warm and slick to cold and clammy. Then he was kissed again, not so innocently.

Filthy and dark with promises was what Bruce's body had told him then and it was telling him again now. Chest to chest, heart to heart, lips barely brushing but touching all the same, lungs sharing the same air.

_Don't stop,_ Jason's fingers begged Bruce as he thread them between the thicker ones gripping his hip. 

_Never_ , Bruce's hips replied with a heady thrust. Jason moaned quietly in the dark, thighs giving out as he fell with finality on Bruce's lap. 

Even with Bruce's arm holding him up, Jason still went backwards, his spine a perfect arch. The rougish mop of curls he called hair brushed Bruce's knees, so soft and fine it felt like silk. Still the man forged onwards, driving Jason into such a state that the teen could swear his eyes were rolled firmly in the back of his own skull. Fast meant multiple times, shallow and only somewhat satisfying orgasms that would suffice but not really sate him. Slow meant endlessly edged and pulled back firmly with Bruce's skills, over and over again. Slow fucking took patience, it took annoying abstinence for weeks beforehand but the reward was something Jason could savor.

He whined like an animal when Bruce took hold of his hips in both hands and finally,  _finally_ , fucked into him as hard as the man knew he could take it. Bruce seeking his own pleasure after Jason's own, and in the process prolonging Jason's orgasm into a shaking mess of jerking limbs and aborted curses.

Jason knew it was coming, when that familiar staccato between his legs came pounding at his door. He frantically threw his arms around Bruce's neck, fingers scrabbling for an anchor in his dark hair. Once he found it Jason kissed him, deep and desperate, not bothering to breathe.

_Come inside me_ his body plead.

Bruce surges up, once, twice, and goes still.

_Yes._

Jason is cradled atop Bruce's chest as the man finally lays back on the bed, one large hand stroking his cramped thighs. He shivers as they part, unaware at how he croons when Bruce's retreat sends a echo of pleasure up his spine. Just as before, Bruce manhandles him into place, unfolding him carefully and letting him lie fully over him. The warm embrace they share doesn't cool. 

The slick dampness that trickles over his inner thighs does though. He sighs in contentment as Bruce's fingers brush lightly at his well used hole. The man slides his touch away and further up, squeezing the swell of his buttock.  _Mine,_ his hand says.

“B...” Jason whispers, voice dusty and hoarse. “Beeeeeee...”

“Hm.” Bruce sounds amused and so fucking smug that Jason half heartedly smacks his broad chest. It earns him a kiss pressed into his hairline, tender and affectionate. So different from anyone else who's ever touched him, and so very, very welcome.

“Yeah yeah, you wrecked me.” Jason huffs, snuggling up to him. “But I gotta take a shower and I can't feel my legs.”

They only lay there for another few minutes, sharing the night air, and comfortable silence. Then Bruce is up, sweeping him into his arms and carrying him to the bathroom. Aftercare is new to Jason. Before coming to the manor, he'd never been more than a paid whore for the hour and nobody wanted to stick around once they'd gotten their jollies. Much less clean the evidence out of him.

Bruce is not like anyone he's ever met, much less slept with. Nobody has ever made him feel like he was worth anything, but this man,  _his man_ , worships him with such tender loving care it makes Jason's heart bloom like a flower in spring. He lathers each of his limbs in expensive, luxurious soap, so gentle in each touch. Rinses him clean, wiping his broad hands over his skin to make sure not a single sud remains. He kneels behind him, fingers and tongue and detachable shower head doing the same to the evidence he left behind.

_I want you._

Jason doesn't say it, but is answered with a gentle press of his lips to the base of his spine.

**You _have me._**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. We Don't Talk Anymore

He was nineteen and aching like a broken bone while clinging to a fire escape for dear life. He'd been ambushed on a rooftop, punched hard enough to shatter his helmet and now he was being chased out of Gotham or locked away in Blackgate forever. Above him on the rooftop he could hear the incoming footsteps of the Dark Knight coming up quick. In a last ditch attempt to get away he let go.

The plummet wasn't fatal but slamming into a dumpster full of Chinese food refuse stunned him enough to make his effort pointless. The punch that had nearly shattered his jaw had made him slow and concussed. Kevlar gloves fisted his collar, ripping at his armor. The stun gun chest plate was ripped off in the process, exposing his skin tight body suit below. Disarmed, vulnerable, he was lifted like a sack of trash and thrown out of the dumpster to crash onto the grimy alleyway.

They didn't talk anymore.

Punches rained down on him like acid rain. His face, his jaw, his collarbone, his chest, his raised arms once he managed to defend himself. Pathetic. Places once cherished, kissed and stroked were beaten without mercy. Pain lit up his nerves with agony and he was mentally back to a warehouse floor, the sounds of fists on him echoing the sickening crunches of metal on bone.

No sarcastic remarks fell from his lips now, not even screams. He couldn't move now that things were broken beyond their relationship. A soft whimper escaped him like a wounded animal. Blackness shifted, cloaking his spinning vision as the Bat loomed over him one fist drawn back.

Jason's eyes closed, sinking into oblivion before the last blow came.

 

There was silence when he rose out of the medically induced coma several days later. His eyes were still swollen nearly shut, and his jaw was wired. Through slitted eyes, he made out the room, a pale, bluish white with several machines beeping around his bedside. The medbay of the cave then. There were tubes in his throat and nose, unpleasant enough that when he stirred he gagged.

“Jason...”

Batman wasn't sitting beside him.

It was Bruce.

The machines whined and screamed as panic flooded him. He couldn't have escaped, not with his arms in casts and his ribs busted, or tethered with some many wires and tubes.

Bruce's hands came down on him, pressing him back into the bed. All over again the adrenaline spiked and fight or flight kicked in. Too weak to fight and hopelessly restrained by vice like fists only one option remained. Jason began to hyperventilate, squirming under the hands as his lungs seized in terror.

_Please don't hurt me!_

The man recoiled as if burned, stepping back from the bed. He looked as though he'd been slapped before the emotion was wiped from his face, replaced with grim resignation. He sat back down in the chair heavily as he listened to Jason's panic attack wind up. The last thing Jason saw was shame blowing like a gust of wind through Bruce's gaze as he reached out and pressed the button on the IV line. Fresh drugs dripped into the tubes, and Jason slipped into blessed unawareness once more.

 

Alfred was there when he woke up the next time. The old man was quite gentle with him and Jason took his attention better. Alfred was the only one in the whole family that Jason trusted implicitly. He'd never hurt him, and from what little Jason could gather from the butler's demeanor, it appeared he was very much on Jason's side.

They never spoke about Bruce, Batman, or even much at all. Jason suspected that it was Alfred who kept him away, as there was no way anyone else could keep Bruce from shipping him off to Blackgate no matter how busted up Jason was.

Alfred took pity on his jaw and didn't make conversation much, but he did read to him. He always seemed to find books that Jason had actually been interested in but never had the time to peruse. Listening to the man he thought of as a grandfather read to him soothed him, kept the demons in his mind at bay for another day as he slowly healed from his injuries.

It couldn't last. Days turned to weeks and soon enough, Alfred sawed the casts on his arms off. Leslie came to remove the wiring in his mouth a few days later, checking out his x-rays before she gave him a wry grin and told him he could finally start eating solid food again. Alfred informed him he looked forward to conversations with him again.

Eating he could do, but talking? He didn't dare ask what he wanted to know: _When am I going to Blackgate and do I even get a chance to say goodbye to Gotham?_

“Master Jason, I've had a room made for you upstairs. The bathroom suite has been remodeled and I do believe you will enjoy the new shower.” Alfred speaks gently, when Jason stays in his bed after the procedures are over and Leslie has gone.

He follows the older man only when Alfred's brow raises at him, brooking no argument. He does enjoy the shower. It's difficult as his right elbow is still stiff from the cast, but his left arm is flexible enough to scrub himself down and rinse off. It's the cleanest he's felt since he'd woken up in the cave.

Using a toilet is a heavenly experience, too sick of bedpans and the awkwardness that is getting his ass wiped by Alfred. He shudders and flushes the toilet. Then he does it again for the hell of it, _fuck your water bill Bruce_.

He stares at the water swirling in the toilet bowl. The two months he'd been in the medbay after waking up the second time he hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man. It was only a matter of time before Bruce came though. He was probably watching him right now, through surveillance cameras in the cave. Vomit rose in his throat and he spent the rest of the time trying not to throw up as he dried himself off.

He practically crawled into bed when he was done, forgoing the pajamas Alfred had laid out for him. His arms were too awkward to wrangle buttons and he was comfortable enough. So sue him, he wanted to enjoy cotton sheets with a high thread count to their fullest before he shipped out to Blackgate to suffer the cheese grater sheets and paper thin mattresses on deadly bunk springs. He didn't make it under the fluffy down comforter, exhaustion overtaking him as he reclined back onto the countless pillows at the headboard.

He dreamed of Bruce.

The past always played out behind his eyelids like a wet dream. Tonight it was different. Tonight Bruce touched him without heat, only sweet gentleness and love. Cupping his cheek, stroking his lower lip with a thumb. A light kiss over his brow. Rubbing soothing circles over his shoulder.

_I love you._

_I'm so sorry._

_I love you so much._

_Please stay._

_Don't leave me again._

Jason woke, tears running down his cheeks. The morning was still young, the sun barely discernible from moonlight through the large windows on the west side of the room. His breathing was irregular, sadness embedded in his chest like a knife. It was just a dream. Bruce didn't love him, didn't want him, he didn't care about anything but putting criminals behind bars. Jason was a criminal and therefore a problem to be dealt with and forgotten. Just like a dead Robin had been.

A sob shook him, sitting up in the nest he'd unerringly created in the middle of the bed. Through his tears, it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he wasn't alone. Jerking his head to the side, he found Bruce sitting stiffly beside him on the edge of the bed, his hand frozen midway as he reached for him.

“D-Don't--” Jason stammered, naked, exposed, and frightened.

“ _Please_.” Bruce croaked, voice thick with regret as Jason flinched. He waited before trying to speak again. “I just want to talk.”

They sat in silence for several moments.

“T-talk? Why?” Jason whispered, drawing his legs up, warmth flooding his face as he remembered his lack of dress. Bruce was wearing little as well, just a tank top and sweats, but it was infinitely more than Jason's birthday suit. He hunched in on himself, hiding.

“I want to tell you how sorry I am. For...hurting you.” Bruce licked his lips nervously. “I lost my temper. It's not an excuse and I don't expect forgiveness. But you deserve an apology.”

Jason laughed bitterly, choked off by a sob.

“I don't deserve shit.” He whispered. “I killed Penguin and I broke my promise. So don't lie to me. Just put me away and leave me alone. I can't keep doing this.”

Bruce shifted close and Jason should have punched him when the man gathered him into his arms and held him tight. This wasn't happening, Jason thought, he was having another dream.

“You didn't kill him.”

Jason froze, staring at the dip of Bruce's collarbone where his face had been angled in the embrace. Bruce swallowed before continuing.

“Even if you had, I shouldn't have hurt you. I don't want to hurt you. Ever again.” He felt Bruce's hand on his jaw, tenderness instead of brutality. His fingers were trembling. Jason met his gaze, tears misting his vision as hope kindled in his dried out black heart. Bruce looked like he felt.

“I can't... cross the line.” Bruce murmured. “I want to, some days more than others. Don't think that I'm a saint. I'm not.”

Jason nodded, sinking further into the man's arms. His own had been trapped between them and his hands weakly fisted into Bruce's thin shirt.

“Jason, I...” Bruce trailed off, his other hand resting on the ribcage he'd pulverized weeks earlier. “I can't cross the line but I can't keep living this half life without you either. I should have talked to you before this. Before I...lost you.”

Before the Joker killed me? Or before you nearly did? He wanted to ask so badly but he stayed there, wrapped in the embrace that hurt as much as it healed.

“Please don't leave me.” Bruce whispered. “I don't deserve to be with you, but please, Jason, _I need you_.”

Crying.

Jason couldn't remember Bruce ever crying, except maybe over Dick getting injured. Anger was usually the way the man dealt with grief. Crying was a useless act that wasted energy better spent plotting ways to get even. Yet here he was, crying and begging Jason to stay.

“Wait...” Jason murmured. “You... aren't gonna send me to Blackgate? Arkham?”

“No.” Bruce shook his head. “You didn't kill him. You aren't crazy.”

“But you--” _Hurt me_ , Jason thinks.

“Never again.” Bruce says firmly, steel covered velvet in his tone. “I'm never going to hurt you. I'm done fighting you.”

“Sure.” Jason couldn't believe his ears. Wouldn't believe it, actually. “Until the next time.”

Warm, strong hands cupped his face.

_You can kill them. I can't, but you can._

Jason feels like he's died all over again, going so still that even his heart dares not to beat. They've known one another too long to pretend they don't understand. A soft sob erupts from Jason's lips and he ducks his head, trying to breathe through it, overwhelmed. 

It felt like the first time Bruce gave him head. He'd wanted it so badly, but was afraid the man would reject him. He'd waited with bated breath in the study for Bruce to return from patrol, anxiety nearly making him go back to bed one too many times. Bruce had merely looked at him where he perched on the desk before he knelt, pulling Jason's hips close with firm steady hands. His eyes nearly glowed with something akin to reverence as he worshiped Jason's body with lips and tongue. No words were needed then and none were needed now. Permission granted, it was hard not to take hold of the opportunity with both hands.

He surged forward, arms thrown blindly around Bruce's sturdy neck. He couldn't get a good hold, not with his joints stiff and his hands weak from lack of use. Bruce embraces him back, thick, strong arms around his waist to pull him in close as his legs wrap around Bruce's waist. Suddenly there's too many layers between them and Jason whines high in his throat at the scrape of cotton on his skin.

“B...” He gasps, mouth open and tasting Bruce's faded cologne on the skin below his ear.

“Jay...” Bruce sounds just as ruined as he does, pulling him even closer, shifting the younger man to better fit on his lap. He palmed Jason's shoulder blades, pushing him until their chests meet. “I love you, Jaylad.”

Heat floods Jason's face, rising from his chest to his neck and up to his ears. He presses down, instinctively seeking the pleasure he knows Bruce can give him. It's been a long time for them, too long, and he knows they should take it slow. They should talk some more, but he's afraid he will ruin everything.

Bruce seems to know what he's thinking, crushing their mouths together, as if to press the words back down their throats for another night. Jason tilts his head, moaning quietly when the kiss eases, transitioning into something tender. Eagerly, he flicks his tongue at the older man's teeth, rewarded with an answering touch. Bruce tastes like peppermint and scotch, and this close he can smell the lingering scent of leather that always clings to his skin after patrol.

They part to breathe, Jason trying not to feel self conscious as Bruce leans back to look at him. He knows the old man is cataloging everything about him from the messy curls on his scalp to the ones nestled at the base of his embarrassingly hard erection. It's been so long since Bruce looked at him like this that he'd forgotten how much he liked it.

He bites his lower lip as he watches Bruce's gaze slowly lower down his body, fingers stroking each new bruise and scar along the way. A keen of pure want slips past his bitten lips when Bruce's blunt nails scrape over the carved curves of his abs.

He bucks his hips with a gasp, his forehead thumping to the older man's broad shoulder as his own legs tremble in anticipation.

“Oh God,” He breathes. “I—B, please...”

“Hmm.” Bruce rumbles, pressing a kiss to Jason's ear, before whispering sinfully, “Please what?”

He tilts his head, halfheartedly glaring at him from the safety of his embrace.

“You know.” He mumbles, the blush on his cheeks scarlet now.

“I have an idea, but I'd like you to be specific.” Bruce smiles, like he used to. Jason feels his heart flip in his chest at the sight before surging up to kiss those lips once more.

“Fuck me,” Jason says before their mouths meet again. He tugs at the older man's neck, urging him to lay down. They both lower to the bed, while Bruce's hand finally wraps around him to give his erection several firm strokes.

Jason cries out, grabbing at his wrist, desperate.

“Wa—wait!” He begs. “I'm guh---gonna...!”

Bruce doesn't wait. He shifts Jason onto his back, while settling himself out beside him. His hand doesn't slow down, knowing even after all these years the exact rhythm it takes to get Jason off.

“It's ok, Jaylad.” Bruce whispers. “Let it out. I've got you.”

Sparks fly up Jason's spine, eyes going blurry as he juts his hips up into Bruce's hand. It's too fast, and he will hate himself later but now all he can do is obey. He babbles, clinging to the older man, vehemently swearing on the last thrust.

“Love you, _love you, B!_ ” He gasps, holding onto Bruce's forearm for dear life as he paints himself in white stripes of satisfaction.

Bruce holds him through it, stroking him until he comes back to himself, squirming at how sensitive he is and how stupid he was for using the L word.

“I love you too, _so, so much_. Don't want to let you go.” Bruce replies, nuzzling his cheek. Jason realizes he's crying when Bruce's clean, dry hand cups his face. He nuzzles Bruce's palm, kissing it in wonder. He doesn't think about anything anymore, it's unimportant in this moment.

_Oh._

_Why did we wait so long?_

He glances at Bruce through his lashes, reaching up to press the large hand closer to his skin. He is petted gently, urging a quiet hum of pleasure from his sated body.

“Old man...” He mutters, reaching down to feel the solid heat Bruce is pressing to his thigh. “I said fuck me, not give me a handjob.” There's no annoyance to his tone, instead bordering on pouty.

“I like watching you orgasm.” Bruce says simply.

Jason whines, dick twitching far too soon, and he buries his burning face into Bruce's chest.

“Oh my fucking God, shut up...” He whimpers. The answering baritone chuckle does things to him, just like everything else about Bruce does. He feels like he understands Roy a little more clearly now, how addiction feels to an addict. The thought of not having this again makes him want to shrivel up in a corner.

The mattress shifts, and he can feel Bruce's weight above him, elbows pressing into the space on either side of his head. The bat is entirely focused now, kissing him into the sheets as he pulls open a drawer at the bedside table. A foil packet lands on Jason's chest, and between the soft whimpers Bruce teases out of his throat, he can hear Bruce clicking open a bottle of lube and slicking up his fingers.

Echoes of years past make Jason's legs open wide, hips canting up eagerly to Bruce's touch. Just like he remembers, the burning stretch of calloused fingers and the soft come hither flutter of his fingers flexing once he's knuckle deep. He opens his eyes to find Bruce looking down at him, face slack with lust and awe. As if the older man can't believe this is happening either.

Jason laughs softly, breath hitching as his dick slowly begins to harden against his stomach.

“M'not going anywhere.” He tilts his head back, groaning.

“But you'll leave eventually.” Bruce says back, almost sadly.

“I don't want to.” Jason sighs, eyes half lidded. “I... I wanted to come home. But I didn't think...ah! _Oh,_ I didn't know you still w-wanted me.”

“Stay.” Bruce doesn't make it seem like a question. An order, one that Jason's caged little heart wants to obey.

“Y-yea... ok...” Jason mumbles, gasping sharply when Bruce's fingers thrust sharply into the spot that makes his arousal flare. “Yes...Yes!” He cries out, arching his back sharply.

Then he is empty once again, Bruce loudly tearing open the condom with his teeth. Dazed, Jason watches him do so before he snatches the latex out of Bruce's thick fingers. Purposefully he throws it off the bed, and hooks his legs over Bruce's waist, digging his heels just under the swell of his thighs.

“Please.” He breathes, shyly meeting Bruce's gaze. “I-Inside me...”

Bruce's groan sounds like heaven and hell wrapped into one, and he doesn't argue. Jason waits with bated breath as the older man jostles him, hitching his knees over his shoulders as he presses down and inwards. They both hiss when the blunt head breaches the tight ring of muscle, holding themselves taut.

“Ngh, _fuck_!” Jason slams his head back against the bed, reaching above his head to clench his fists into the comforter. “Shit, you're fucking—h-huge...”

Bruce presses in deeper, looming over him.

“Compared to...?” Bruce asks him, voice gentle but firm. “Who else has--”

“N-No one!” Jason shakes his head frantically, brows furrowing at the burn of the final stretch. They are nearly there, Bruce's hips only an inch away from being seated fully against his ass. “Nobody, just you... belong to you--!” He would have rather died than say these words before but he can't stop now that he knows Bruce loves him, always has.

“That's right.” Bruce growls, hips snapping downwards, hard enough to bruise. “ _Mine._ ”

They don't talk after that. Jason relinquishes his death grip on the blanket, trading it for holding onto Bruce's shoulders. There is only the soft sound of their heavy breathing, drowned out by the lewd slap of skin on skin. Jason's whole body feels as though it is burning, each thrust sending him further up the mattress until the back of his head is pressed flush against the headboard.

 _“Oh, oh, oh, oh!”_ He chants, clawing welts over Bruce's back that would make Catwoman proud. He revels at the grunt he draws from his lover, kissing him soundly.

Feverishly, Jason grinds his erection up against Bruce's solid abdomen, feeling the familiar prickle of orgasm building. He doesn't even need to ask before Bruce's hand finds him, matching the pounding pace from both sides. Overwhelmed, Jason can't help but come, limbs shaking without his consent.

“No!” Jason whines, clinging to the older man as he moves to pull out, presumably to finish himself. “Don't stop please, want to feel you.” He bites his lip, hooded gaze lowered to where they join. “Come inside me, old man. _I want it_.”

Bruce stares down at him, blankly, before something hot rushes over his expression. His ice blue eyes grow dark before they shutter close, and he thrusts down again, once, twice, three times, and goes still. Both moaned low and loud in the quiet air between them. Slowly, Bruce relaxed his weight onto Jason's body, covering him completely. Beneath him, Jason wrapped his limbs around him, clinging to him without hesitation.

Exhausted, Bruce rolled them to the other side of the bed to avoid the mess their mended relationship had left on the comforter. He stroked the young man's broad back, amazed how good it feels to have him back in his arms again. In the morning there will be conversations to be had and other family members to contend with. He kissed Jason's sweaty forehead, as his mind stirred sluggishly through the afterglow.

“Wrecked me for anybody else.” Jason muttered as he buried his face against his chest.

“You wrecked me too.” Bruce admits, his chin tucked over the boy's head.

“Good thing you're built like a brick house then.” Jason snorted, though he sounded pleased. Something warm glowed in Bruce's heart and he squeezed him close on reflex. The affection was returned as Jason snuggled down against him and relaxed.

“Go to sleep Jaylad.” He rumbled. “We can talk more in the morning.”

“Just talk?” Jason yawned.

“Well,” Bruce smiled. “Maybe not just with words.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is unbetaed but whatever, it's done and I wanted to share it before I lose my nerve. There will be one more chapter, but I'm bushed. I'll work on it later.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, are we all in agreement then?”

“The only thing _we_ agree on is that this is going to be a monumental mistake, Grayson.”

“Look Dick, as much as I want to help Damian is right. We really shouldn't get involved with this.”

“Timmy, come on, he isn't perfect but Jason is--”

“He's a criminal.”

“Ok, he did some bad things but--”

“Oh my god, can you guys stop arguing and just man up? Go back to the manor already! _I am trying to study._ ” Stephanie threw her biochemistry book onto the coffee table, giving up on her chapter reading for an important quiz in the morning. She stood and planted her hands on her hips as she shot a glare at the three Robins who'd been hiding out in her crappy apartment since that morning when Jason had been given the all clear by Leslie. Alfred had suggested the boys get out of the manor for the day, to give Jason his space. As if the entire family hadn't collectively avoided the man during his entire healing process already.

Honestly, Stephanie felt sorry for Jason. Shooting Penguin was wrong, but secretly she understood. Not that she could say it aloud. The entire situation was bananas in her opinion, only in Gotham could the creeps get shot in the head point blank and still survive.

Dick had spent the entire morning having a serious talk with Tim and Damian, trying to get both of them to at least try and help him convince Bruce to keep Jason out of Blackgate. Instead, Dick wanted to get Jason into a kinder place, perhaps a nice mental facility upstate that could help him get back on the right track.

“Steph...” Tim sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted despite the fact he'd had an entire pot of coffee for dinner. “I'd love to go back, but Alfred texted me half an hour ago and told us to bunk down elsewhere for the night.

“That's not a good sign.” Stephanie's eyebrows flew to her hairline.

“What??! Why didn't you tell me?!” Dick demanded, rolling off the nest of throw pillows he'd made himself on the floor by the television.

“Because I knew you'd jump out the window and book it back home like _Alfred specifically told us not to._ ” Tim gave him a look. “Look, it's too late for us to come up with a plan. Bruce isn't going to take our opinions into account with his decision. Let's just enjoy the peace and quiet for tonight and go back in the morning. We'll deal with it then, ok?”

“We can't abandon Jason--” Dick tried again, but he sank down into his pillows.

“Enough Grayson.” Damian snapped. “Todd made his bed, he can lay in it.”

 

 

 

Morning light filtered through the drawn back curtains of the bedroom, a cheerful golden hue warming the back of Jason's eyelids when he finally stirred. Groggily he blinked awake, lifting his head from the soft pillow he'd somehow burrowed into. The manor guestroom greeted him once his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight spilling into the space. 

He stretched languidly, sighing at the luxurious bedding he was nestled in. It wasn't until he felt a hand slide over the back of his ribcage that he startled into full awareness, gasping.

Bruce's throaty chuckle sounded just behind his ear, a warm kiss pressed to his temple. The gentleness eased the tense set of Jason's muscles, as memories filtered back to him of their shared moonlight. He nuzzled into the pillow once more to hide the pleased flush that was warming his cheeks when Bruce stroked him again, giving his hip a firm squeeze.

“Mmmn.” Jason arched into the touch, moaning quietly when Bruce's hand slid to cup his ass.

“Are you hungry?” Bruce sat on the bed next to him. His considerable weight displaced the mattress enough that Jason slid into the dip and bumped against the older man's thigh. Instead of answering, Jason rolled over, lifting himself enough to deposit his upper body over Bruce's lap. He yawned, propping his chin in his hand.

“I don't think I could walk down a hallway much less a couple flights of stairs, B.” He replied with a sly grin. “Breakfast in bed?”

Bruce was draped in one of his ridiculously short silk robes, the collar parted wide enough to expose his scarred chest. Jason's mouth watered with a different kind of hunger. He gave in, pushed up off Bruce's lap to kiss a line straight up the man's chisled abs.

Bruce's large hand cupped the back of his head, fingers tangled in dark curls to pull him up further into a tender kiss. Jason broke the kiss with a wet pop, giving Bruce no moment to protest before he clambered onto his lap. With a smug smirk he gave the older man a wink.

“We gonna talk?”

“I love you.”

Jason went still as they stared at one another, all playfulness bleeding from the mood. He swallowed audibly, face gone hot with crimson.

“T-that's not fair.” He whispered, hands running over the front of the silk robe, plucking at the neckline nervously.

“Hm.” Bruce gave nothing away, just watching Jason squirm beneath his hands as he steadied the younger man. It wasn't long before Jason thumped a loose fist against his chest.

“Dirty old man.” Jason sighed.

“Don'tcha like dirty old men, boy?” Matches Malone crooned back. Wide eyed, Jason leaned back a little, shocked. He licked his lips in a quick flash of pink tongue. The persona disappeared as soon as it appeared, Bruce's visage smoothed out of a leer and into something more like a genuine smile. It had been a long time since Bruce had been like this. As far as Jason knew, the playfulness had died along with him so many years ago. His heart tumbled to think that Bruce was only like this for him.

“Isn't that obvious?” Jason whispered, draping himself over the older man's chest. “I love them, actually.” He blindly traced a bat symbol over Bruce's skin, before he kissed the man's jaw.

“Hn.” Bruce sighed, as Jason slid his hand under the robe and pushed it down and off his shoulder.

“What now?” Jason asked him, softly. “We can talk, or...” He rocked his hips suggestively, breath hitching when he realized Bruce was half mast beneath him. Bruce looked stubborn, jaw set and eyebrows lowered in thought.

“I want--” Bruce started, before he stopped, head tilted as though he heard something. Jason stiffened above him, straining to listen as well. He heard it now as well. It was faint but he could hear the sounds of several sets of footsteps somewhere in the manor. Why they were projecting their presence was beyond him, but he was grateful for the warning all the same.

Both launched themselves off the bed, hurriedly straightening the room and themselves up. The blanket proved a problem, the stain obvious and large enough to be noticeable. As if sensing Jason's panic, Bruce grabbed the comforter and flipped it over, smoothing it out over the large mattress with practiced ease. At Jason's questioning look, Bruce just gave a sheepish smile.

There was no time to think about what that meant, much less how many other lovers Bruce had. Jason pulled on the pajamas that Alfred had laid out the previous night, hindered by his stiff arms as he buttoned them up. By the time he'd finished, Bruce had vanished out the window, leaving it open to allow a morning breeze to flutter through and air out the last remnants of stale sex. Jason had managed to get his shirt buttoned halfway when a knock came at his bedroom door.

He didn't bother to answer it, knowing that familiar rap would not wait for a reply. Alfred entered the room, carrying a tray of breakfast. He stood in the doorway, eyes pointedly roving Jason's room, before stopping on the flipped comforter. Jason swore he was staring at the very spot that was stained on the other side.

“Alfie.” Jason greeted him, voice cracking. Alfred met his gaze, raising one thin brow. He resisted the urge to fidget and lasted all of ten seconds, before he shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“Master Jason, shall I fetch fresh bedding before your meal?” Alfred asked cautiously. He stared up at the man he considered a grandfather, his mouth falling open in a silent gasp.

“I...” He looked at the bed, blushing. “Yeah.”

Alfred set the tray up at the nearby desk, before he set about stripping the bed. He rolled and folded the comforter quickly, tossing it swiftly into the laundry chute in the hallway before he replaced the bedding with a practiced ease. Jason sat and stared at his omelette and toast, before burying his face in his hands as he listened to the soft rustle of cotton sheets.

“Alfie, I... please don't hate me.” He tried to breach the subject, shame crushing his shoulders into a hunch.

The older man touched the curve of his back, patting him.

“I could never.” Alfred sounded warm, and his voice trembled with something close to hope. “I have missed you, so very much Master Jason. Whatever transpired between you and Master Bruce, I am here to support you in any way I can.”

Jason shook his head, standing from his seat before he caught Alfred in a bear hug. For his part, the older man took it with grace, patting his back again as if to soothe him.

“I...” Jason mumbled, reluctantly pulling back. “I love him, Alfie.” He smiled, eyes welling with tears.

“You are loved as well Master Jason.” Alfred assured him. “By us all.”

 

 

Jason dawdled after his breakfast, taking his time in the shower. It was obvious that they were no longer alone in the manor, but none had tried to intrude on his solitude yet. Clothes were laid out for him when he finished drying off, jeans and a faded rock band t-shirt. Lifting the garment from the bed he stared at the design with an amused grin. It was an 80's band, and he recognized it. He could practically hear the heavy screech of electric guitars.

_**Poison Idea** _

A skull with barbed wire strung through the orbital sockets sat beneath the band's name, the same as the poster he'd had plastered above the mat in his squat before he'd been caught by the Batman. He traced the skull lightly, fondness blooming within his chest. He could remember that the band broke up shortly after he went to live at the manor, so he could never go to a concert.

Bruce had bought him a walkman and the band's two albums on cassette for his first Christmas. This shirt had never showed up amongst the pile of presents and even if it had the size was too large for him then. It had obviously been worn often enough to be faded. Looking closely, he could see a few stains as well, suspiciously like motor oil stains and possibly blood.

The idea that Bruce had worn this undercover made him wonder if the man thought of him when he did. Had he been nostalgic? Had he felt sad? Did he remember the nights they shared speaking without a word between them? Jason was going to ask him.

First though, he had to get dressed and face the music downstairs where the rest of the family was undoubtedly waiting to either jump him or hug him. Both options were unappealing.

He ignored the boots that had been left out for him, opting to go downstairs barefoot. It kept him from alerting anyone to his presence and the thick wool carpeting beneath his weary feet felt magical. A snagging sensation in his lower back and thighs joined the slight burn he was steadfastly ignoring as he descended.

By the time he lighted on the landing at the bottom of the staircase he waited for several moments, just listening to the air in the manor. Sometime between his shower and getting dressed the family had gone quiet. It was too early for them to have gone to the cave so there were few other spots they could be.

Exhaling, Jason headed to the kitchen.

 

 

In the cave Bruce was seated at the computer, surveillance video brought up of the manor. Feeds of Jason's movements were flickering through the screen, following him from the hallway, to the stairs and then to the kitchen. Jason took up a spot by the window, sunk into the wooden chair to watch the birds fight at the feeder Alfred had hung on a low hanging tree branch. He was wearing a shirt Bruce hadn't seen in years and a warmth spread through his gut at the sight. It made him want to wrap the young man in his arms and make him wear nothing but himself for the next few hours.

That was where the family found him, fingers steeped in contemplation as he watched the young man.

“Hey, B.” Dick sounded as though he were smothering a wince as he spoke. “How is he?”

Bruce pushed back from the computer to turn the chair around in a smooth motion. The three Robins went stock still at the motion. Dick's jaw snapped shut for once unable to make a quip.

“There is something I need to tell you.” Bruce said quietly.

“Oh God. You're gonna send him to Arkham, aren't you?” Dick asked weakly, the breath rushed out of his voice.

“What? No.” Bruce rose one brow. “I'm not sending him anywhere.”

Dick looked ready to drop with shock at that revelation. Behind him, Damian scoffed.

“Why the hell not?” The boy waved an arm at the screen. “He disobeyed your direct orders!”

Tim was staring at the screen, his face carefully blank but his eyes a little too bright. Bruce glanced at whatever had caught his attention. Jason was no longer seated at the window, instead rifling through the fridge. The shirt had ridden up his back, revealing the smooth expanse of skin at the base of his spine.

“Language.” Bruce frowned, though it was halfhearted at best. Jason stood, pulling his prize from the bottom drawer of the fridge. It was a can of whipped cream, which Jason promptly shot a mouthful of between his shapely lips. Purposeful, Jason gazed at the camera and stared it down as he licked the tip of the nozzle suggestively.

“Uh...” Tim muttered. “Remind me not to use that on my hot cocoa next time.”

“Why are you letting him roam the manor freely, Father?! He should be in the holding cells, or wearing a monitoring collar or something.” Damian snarled, turning on his heel to stomp towards the stairs. “We will take care of him if you won't.”

“Damian.” Bruce demanded, standing from his chair. “Come here.” The boy paused on the third step, turning to look back at his father with wide eyes.

“There is something I wanted to tell you. All of you.” Bruce shut down the camera feeds, sighing. “I want to make it clear that Jason is not going to Arkham, or Blackgate, or anywhere else. He and I have had a discussion and--”

Jason's laugh echoed from the top of the stairs at the cave entrance, and he appeared shortly after, still carrying the can of whip cream. He didn't seem bothered by the audience, strutting past them with the ease of someone unconcerned. Bruce knew better.

Jason's hips were forcibly relaxed in his gait but his abdomen was tense, probably from the discomfort of their joining. He ran a hand through his bangs, pushing them back off his forehead as he sat down on the computer console.

“So,” Jason asked his brothers. “--here to take me away then?”

“No, we came to stop it from happening!” Dick looked affronted, even though Tim and Damian were anything but on board with that plan. Jason didn't comment, merely averting his gaze from the others to look at Bruce.

Bruce shrugged as he sat back down in his chair, as if to say _the decision is yours._

Decision made, Jason carefully slid his calves over Bruce's lap, pulling the man's chair closer before he sat down atop his spread thighs. Cheekily, Jason looped an arm around the back of Bruce's neck and clasped his hands together in a loose embrace. The whip cream lay in his lap forgotten as Jason leaned in close and pressed a kiss to Bruce's jaw.

Immediately, the confusion was palpable in the cave before Damian exploded in indignation.

“ _What are you doing_?!” The boy screeched.

“B???” Dick was quick on the uptake, reaching out to catch Damian's shirt before he launched forward into an attack. Tim for his part looked ready to bolt.

The boys stared, dumbfounded as Bruce stroked one hand down Jason's hip and left it to rest just above his knee. Jason's laugh wasn't unkind when he saw the looks on their faces. Dick's brows rose, memories clicking into place and he drew the same conclusion that Tim did several seconds earlier.

“Are you... sleeping together?” He asked, a lump welling in his throat.

“Oh _yeah_.” Jason admitted, jauntily pointing his toes like a pinup girl as he draped over Bruce's chest. “So we're good. I'm glad you came to help me, but it's alright. I got this.”

Somebody, probably Tim, threw a smoke bomb.

“ _Ninja, vanish_!” Jason laughed loud and free at their expense. Despite his brothers collective mortification, they all had to admit it was good to hear him so happy. As they escaped the cave and the situation at hand, the three Robins agreed that it was good to have Jason back. Even if Damian wanted to bleach his brain for weeks afterward.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished the trilogy! ;) There wasn't any smut, but at least Jason has some closure now.  
> Also, once the others get over their shock and set some ground rules (no banging in the batcave you animals) they'll start to work on their own relationships with Jason.  
> Also, someone give Alfred an award for dealing with Brucie Wayne's bedsheets, oh my hell. XD


End file.
